They landed at Westminster Bridge and went to a tearoom for tea. When they came out it was quite dark, and they got on to the top of an omnibus. But the town was now ablaze with gas and electric lights that were flinging out the initials of the Queen, and Whitehall was dense with carriages going to the official receptions. Glory wanted to be in the midst of so much life, so the girls got down and walked arm in arm.
As they passed through Piccadilly Circus they were laughing again, for the oppression of the crowds made them happy. The throng was greatest at that point and they had to push their way through. Among others there were many gaily-dressed women, who seemed to be waiting for omnibuses. Glory noticed that two of these women, who were grimacing and lisping, had spoken to a man who was also lounging about. She tugged at Polly's arm.
“That's strange! Did you see that?” she said.
“That! Oh, that's nothing. It's done every day,” said Polly.
“What does it mean?” said Glory.
“Why, you don't mean to say—well, this, Glory—— Really your friends ought to take care of you, my dear, you are so ignorant of the world.”
And then suddenly, as by a flash of lightning, Glory had her first glimpse of the tragic issues of life.
“Oh, my gracious! Come along,” she whispered, and dragged Polly after her.
They were panting past the end of St. James's Street when a man with an eye-glass and a great shield of shirt-front collided with them and saluted them. Glory was for forging ahead, but Polly had drawn up.
“It's only my friend,” said Polly in another voice.—“This is a new nurse. Her name is Glory.”